


Speed of Sound

by slash4femme



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Marking, Rimming, Sex, Standing in the rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock comes home that evening to find McCoy standing outside watching the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speed of Sound

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in September 2009
> 
> written for [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/8314.html?thread=22793082) at st_xi_kink. beta read by [](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/) **cardiac_logic**  who is wonderful.

McCoy is not in the house when Spock gets back from the Academy that evening. Instead McCoy is outside, standing a little away from the back porch, watching the sky. The fact that it has begun to rain doesn’t matter to him in the slightest.

“Leonard.”

McCoy holds up one hand, “Shh, Spock. I’m trying to savor the moment. Do you know how long it’s been since I experienced really honest to goodness Earth rain?”

Spock is silent and McCoy tips his head up, smiling slightly. The sky is gray, tinted purple at the horizon and the wind has picked up, throwing the rain hard against McCoy’s body, blowing in gusts, in equal parts both drenching his hair and blowing it into disarray. It’s raining hard now, going from only a few drops to a downpour in a matter of minutes. His clothes are soaked, plastered to his body, and water is streaming off his hair into his eyes. He opens his eyes finally and turns, surprised to find Spock still standing behind him, hands clasped behind his back, looking just as calm as he would have if they’d been back on the bridge of the _Enterprise_. 

McCoy squints at Spock through the rain. “What are you still doing out here?”

“I believe, Leonard, it is called ‘savoring the moment’.”

When they’d first met McCoy hadn’t understood the meaning behind statements like that, now he just grins and holds out his hand. “I meant for you to wait inside, you know.”

Spock merely arches his eyebrows and takes McCoy’s hand. For a moment McCoy just stands there looking at Spock. The slighter man’s hair is plastered to his face, his clothes soaked through. Still, he is almost heartbreakingly beautiful, and too good, McCoy thinks. Because Spock is the kind of man who will stand outside in the middle of a thunderstorm for no other reason than because it means something to McCoy.

McCoy reaches forward, letting his fingertips slide along the wet curve of Spock’s jaw, tilts his face slightly and kisses him, softly, a warm press of wet lips against wet lips. Spock sighs into the kiss, mouth opening under McCoy’s, hands going around McCoy’s waist, pulling their bodies together. Their tongues touch, gentle, light, and McCoy pulls away first, looking at Spock, blinking the water out of his eyes, and smiles.

“Long day?”

Spock sighs, “The Captain can be . . . taxing when there is something he wants and Starfleet has not seen fit to give it to him.”

“And what does Jim want today?”

There is something unreadable in Spock’s eyes, something McCoy has never seen before. “The _Enterprise_.”

McCoy nods, it is always that. The battle of Vulcan, the five-year mission and still it never changes. He pulls on Spock’s hand slightly, “Come inside before we both drown.”

“It is highly improbable,” Spock tells him almost gently and lets himself be pulled into the house.

The kitchen is almost unbearably warm after the rain, and McCoy shakes his head, spraying water from his hair across the blue and white tiled floor. McCoy wants to stop there and put on the kettle for tea, but Spock pulls him insistently by the hand through the kitchen into the front room and up the stairs. They end up in the bedroom and Spock drops McCoy’s hand and disappears into the bathroom, emerging a minute later carrying a towel and toweling off his hair.

“Hey.”

Spock takes the towel away from his face and looks at McCoy over it, “Hello.”

They stare at each other and McCoy holds out his hand. Spock drops the towel and goes to him, pulling him close and kissing him again, slowly and hungrily building towards something more, where the first kiss had been light and teasing. McCoy shivers slightly in his wet clothes, feeling where they are turning cold, sticking to him in all the wrong places, and will start to chafe soon. He must look like he really did drown and he can’t think of anything less attractive, but Spock’s arms around him are tight and sure. Spock’s mouth is hot, wet and open under his, Spock’s tongue touching his lips, the roof of his mouth, sliding against his own tongue. Spock’s hands slide up and down his arms, gripping his biceps, stroking against his forearms. He can’t think, can’t breathe when Spock touches him like this. Spock’s body is hot against his even through two layers of cold and wet clothing. McCoy shivers from the contradicting sensations, from the feel of Spock’s hands on his arms, his shoulders, Spock’s mouth against his throat, biting gently at the soft skin underneath his left ear. Spock’s fingers curl into the bottom of McCoy’s t-shirt, pull it up over McCoy’s head, peeling it away from his body. Spock’s fingers trace across his bare shoulders, hot against McCoy’s cold skin, and he shivers again.

“Spock.”

Spock looks up at him and McCoy kisses him, can’t help but kiss him, can’t help but kiss along his jaw, lick at the lobe of one ear and watch a shiver run through the other man.

“You are too cold.” Both of Spock’s hands are pressed against McCoy’s bare chest, splayed across the well-defined muscle and sparse hair there. He takes McCoy by the hand and pulls him into the bathroom. Spock adjusts the shower and McCoy pulls off the rest of his sodden clothes, leans against the sink and watches Spock undress, peeling off his wet Academy instructor uniform. The same style as the one he’d been wearing when they’d first met, McCoy remembers. Spock looks younger now, hair plastered to his head, half naked and so much more fragile. McCoy reaches forward, pulling the smaller man into his arms, kissing along his cheeks, across his nose, kissing his ears and finally his mouth. Spock’s eyes close briefly in pleasure, and he presses himself close to McCoy before slowly stepping back and pulling McCoy into the shower and under the water.

The water is hot, almost shockingly so, but this is one thing they have in common and McCoy quickly adjusts, sighs and rolls his shoulders against the hot spray. Spock’s hands stroke down his back, press against his hips, circle to slide up McCoy’s chest. Spock takes him by the shoulders and turns him gently and sinks down; he kisses the curve of McCoy’s hip before leaning forward and taking McCoy’s erection into his mouth. McCoy sighs, eyes sliding shut, hand coming to rest against Spock’s shoulder. He leans into the water, concentrating on the feel of Spock’s hot mouth on him, the way Spock’s long fingers roll his balls. He groans and Spock makes soft, almost inaudible noises of his own. McCoy always feels slightly vulnerable when Spock does this, and it’s not that he doesn’t love it, it’s just that it makes him feel strange not giving anything, only receiving.

“Spock.”

Spock pulls back, looking up at him, and then stands up in a long graceful motion and takes McCoy into his arms again.

“Shush.” He kisses McCoy firmly, “Let it be, Leonard.”

McCoy opens his mouth to protest and Spock presses a finger against McCoy’s lips, pressing it into his mouth and McCoy sucks eagerly now that he has been given a chance to take the lead and pleasure Spock. Spock’s eyes slide shut and his hips jerk forward, grinding against McCoy’s hip. Spock hisses softly and then pulls his finger free, turns McCoy again, this time to face the wall, and sinks down again.

McCoy feels Spock’s long elegant fingers spread him open and closes his eyes, braces his arms against the shower wall, presses his forehead against his arm. Spock’s tongue is hot, and McCoy sucks in a long shaky breath as Spock licks up his ass, first just the cheek, biting teasingly before licking between, licking right there and McCoy groans. Spock’s tongue is so hot as he presses into McCoy and McCoy bites his lip, his hips jerking forward. Spock pulls away a little, hot breath against McCoy’s increasingly warm skin. Spock’s hands still hold him open and vulnerable and McCoy’s breath comes shallow and uneven, drowned out by the pound of water against tile. Finally Spock reaches for the soap and stands, leaning against McCoy’s back, and kisses his neck and along one broad shoulder. McCoy knows it’s coming, but still can’t keep from hissing when Spock enters him hot and full, and the stretch isn’t comfortable exactly, but McCoy leans his head back against Spock’s shoulder and accepts it. Spock is slow, almost inhumanly so, pushing in a fraction at a time waiting for McCoy to adjust before pushing in further. Finally though, McCoy groans and thrusts back, wanting more, needing it. Spock is still for a moment and then begins to thrust hard, and McCoy braces both hands against the slick wall of the shower and pushes back.

“Spock, darlin’.” He can’t breath, he can’t think, he can’t feel anything but Spock, hot inside him, filling him; he has no idea how he’s still even standing. Spock doesn’t make any noise at all, but his hands are hard and hot against McCoy’s hips. One hand leaves McCoy’s hip, drifts up his chest and presses against his throat, presses hard, forcing McCoy’s body further back against Spock. McCoy accepts this too, even as his breathing becomes shallow, gives it up because Spock asks. Spock bites down hard on one of McCoy’s broad shoulders, sucks and bites at the spot again and again, until it stands out stark and bruised against McCoy’s light skin. McCoy’s eyes are closed, his mouth open, panting hard, and he turns his head, wet mouth against Spock’s wet throat and Spock feels the other man’s body shudder as he comes. Spock lets out a soft sound from deep in his chest, almost a growl, leaning hard, pressing deep into the slightly bigger man as he comes.

They stand there, hot water rushing over them, gasping against each other’s wet skin, and Spock slowly, gently pulls away from McCoy’s body. McCoy remains braced against the wall, trembling slightly. Spock washes himself methodically with one of the washcloths and then washes McCoy more gently and thoroughly. Spock turns off the water and steps out of the shower, holding out his hand to McCoy, who takes it.

“Come to bed, Leonard,” Spock says softly. “Tomorrow the Captain will want us both to support his argument to Starfleet.”

McCoy sighs and shakes his head slightly, “You know, I’ve never met anyone who took promotion with less grace than Jim.”

He wraps a towel loosely around his waist and follows Spock into the bedroom, “We are going to have to do something you know, get him away for a little while before they decide to arrest him – not just promote him.”

“Perhaps.” Spock gets into the bed, “I will speak to Mr. Sulu in the morning.”

McCoy nods and yawns and lies beside Spock. They are quiet and the house is silent too. Outside it is still raining and when McCoy closes his eyes and listens all he can hear is rain.

 

  



End file.
